


Overture

by Qais



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League: War
Genre: Gen, M/M, Movie Reference, OOC, Pre-Slash, heads up, listen I just want my dumb boys to love each other and go on dates, this is pretty heavily reliant on knowledge of JL: War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15373968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qais/pseuds/Qais
Summary: Justice League: WarHal catalogues moments of contact, and then falls in love.





	Overture

**Author's Note:**

> So, I re-watched Justice League: War at 1am, as you do, and just had to write this. It's basically a collection of moments in the movie where Hal and Bruce connect, either physically or verbally. I've obviously taken some liberties with how much physical contact is involved but I think y'all won't mind.

The first point of contact comes like a freight train, a growling voice yelling “ _move_ ” and the impact of an entire body colliding with Hal’s. Hal is still a little bit stuck in the oh-shit-you’re-real phase, but the feeling of taut muscle on top of him, the weight of nothing other than a man on top of him, it’s enough to shake him out of it.

The blast of fire where they (read: Hal) had been standing lights up the Bat’s silhouette, and Hal feels momentarily frozen. Batman whips around to watch the creepy-crawly jump to another roof and Hal? Well, he’s looking at the Bat’s jaw and wondering if the rest of the face underneath the cowl is as angled and-

Well.

***

They’re in the sewers at the next point of contact. Hal is absolutely trying to convince himself that there is no possible way that the Batman is just some guy, but something about the man’s smirk reads like truth (the irony of that isn’t lost on Hal). He’s staring at that jaw again when the man holds up Hal’s ring.

He uses anger to hide the unsettled feeling in his bones, the point of being a Lantern was that he didn’t lose concentration, but this man, this shadow, somehow pulls all the light Hal contains into one point of blackness and doesn’t let go. It’s more than a little worrying (scary, if he’s being honest). 

And then he’s being slammed into the wall and that taut wall of muscle is leaning against him again, pressed firmly into Hal’s body without trepidation. Hal represses a shiver, and almost convinces himself that it was because the man’s body was _cold_.

Almost.

***

Then (predictably), the world is consumed by fire and Hal reaches frantically behind him to grab onto the cold of the shadow that walked in after him. In the moment before the construct settles in a green glow, the world goes white, and Hal wants to bang his head into a wall for running into a situation half-cocked, _again_. 

The cold wrist in his hand, heavy and silent, reminds him that he isn’t alone this time, that his recklessness could get them _both_ killed. It’s enough to snap the construct into place quick as lightning.

There is a moment of stillness in the safe, with the Bat’s wrist still heavy in Hal’s hand, feeling like both salvation and condemnation in turn. But he drops the weight like it’s iciness has splintered his fingers and holds the door open. They move closer to the device and Hal is back to his confidence, his flyboy charm, holding up the ring and letting it work its magic.

Except apparently the world hates him and the guardian’s _don’t_ know everything. He always knew he shouldn’t get too comfortable with authority, but it was nice believing in omniscience for a hot minute. Batman’s arm burns like a brand as it backs him away from the device, and Hal wonders how something so cold keeps lighting his skin on fire.

***

The worst by far is when they’re in the ball (because Hal can’t do anything better when being knocked around by an _invincible alien_ ). By necessity, he keeps the space as tight as it can be, and as they get knocked around the city and through buildings, they fall into each other.

One impact, and Hal knows that the man’s thighs are like the steel they’re crashing through.

Another punch, and the back of Hal’s head is pressed up against the hard lines of Bats’ stomach. 

A third, and he’s on his stomach, with Batman’s thick calves pressing into his thigh.

A fourth, and the piece de resistance, is when Hal’s mind can no longer take the impacts, and the ball shatters. He ricochets away from the blast and for a good 10 seconds Hal has a full body pressed up against every line of him, as he tried desperately not to let go. At the final instant, he loosen his grip and Batman flips over a car and lands on his feet ( _how even?!_ ) but even as Hal rights himself the phantom presence of the shadow in his arms weighs him down. 

And then the numbnut stands in the middle of the street unflinching, as the man who just _blasted them through several buildings_ flies straight at him. The wind of Superman’s sharp stop buffets across Hal’s face and even as he asks the question he tastes the name on his mouth: _Bruce Wayne_.

***

Then it’s just hordes of aliens and battle and Hal being knocked around like a ragdoll. As he sinks under a pile of aliens and laments every dumbass decision that led him here he feels a grip on his wrist and the weightlessness of flight. He knows without looking that it’s him.

Hal adjusts automatically to accommodate the man, flattening the planes of the construct so that Batman can stand, and adding in hooks and pulleys for him to grab onto. He tries not to examine the fact that his mind has already internalized Bats’ presence, and is unconsciously accommodating it already.

He tries even harder not to think about the fact that he can’t even do this for Carol without a concerted effort, and he especially does not think about why he’s comparing the two. 

And then there’s aliens and battle and cyborgs and amazons and fire and Hal really has no time to think about it anyway.

***

Okay so apparently there’s a big bad and Hal, well Hal usually does diplomatic missions and fighting-alongside-armies-against-other-armies but he can totally do this. 

Except he totally can’t, gets his ass beat, and then tries again because _willpower_ and now he’s hanging from a broken arm in the hand of a maniac. So much for that. And then there’s more white heat and apparently Superman’s gone and Hal has a job to do.

But there’s that damned Bat, standing in his way again, and Hal is so tired he could scream.

“What are you trying to prove?” The shadow asks and Hal wants to launch into an explanation of what exactly a Green Lantern is, that this is his job, his purpose, that he can’t back down from this, but what comes out instead is:

“You phenomenal douchebag.” Let it not be said that Hal can’t insult well, even when he should be doing other things (like saving Kryptonian aliens from being _harvested or whatever-the-fuck_ ). 

But then Batman is telling Hal that they’re ‘alike,’ Hal is ensuring that Mr. Spooky knows that he cannot, within reason, call himself normal, and suddenly his name is in that mouth and he pauses. “I never told you my name.” And Hal is concentrating very hard to not let it show that he enjoyed hearing it from that mouth, and would like to continue hearing it- but the cowl is off and _holy shit_.

The first thought: oh no, he _is_ hot.

The second: he’s telling me his life story, why is he- I am not equipped for this, help.

And there’s an inflection ins Bruce’s voice that somehow makes Hal think that the guy must have kids, but he’s busy shrugging that off when the man begins to disguise himself. He takes a moment to curse that he makes a beanie and a drab jacket look good (but with those eyes and that jawline? Hal is pretty sure it’d be a harder task to make something look bad), and then takes a longer moment after the moron flies off in the claws of an alien to curse the man’s apparent suicidal streak.

The crater of rubble feels empty and Hal realizes with immediate clarity that Batman just left him in charge of a bunch of superpowered heroes (and ‘left him in charge’ implies that Bruce was in charge before, which Hal would disagree with, if he was a moron). He’s reminded acutely of a story Barry told him last time he was earthside.

_Hal, they just left the plane to me and told me to fly, but no one even asked if I knew how! Of course the plane crashed, where on earth does ‘man who can run across America in minutes’ imply the ability to fly planes Hal! Where!_

But Hal wallows for only as long as it takes to watch Bruce disappear, and then he clenches his teeth and goes off to lead, or whatever.

***

The battle is over and they’re standing in front of the American public and behind the president. Hal still feels a little off-kilter, and Bruce keeps speaking and making it worse. The banter is fun but all it does is exacerbate Hal’s need to wine and dine the man (which probably wouldn’t go well, as Hal’s google search had informed him quite neatly that yes Bruce Wayne is the type of man that can have his own satellite). 

Afterwards, as they all mill about, almost directionless, Hal remembers the phantom cold on his body and wonders if maybe Bruce had felt Hal’s heat as searingly. Before he can take a step towards Bats, his ring glows and Hal is digesting a 4-month assignment with all the grace of a toddler.

“The Lambdras, huh? That should be fun,” Superman is grinning next to him and Hal sighs.

“Yeah, if a 4-month long diplomatic mission that will definitely end in bloodshed is your idea of fun, sure, Supes, sure.” And Hal can’t quite contain the bitter turn of his mouth because he knows that this mission will end in violence, the situation has been worsening minute-by-minute and the Lambdras are, at this point, looking for reasons to incite an interstellar conflict.

A dead Lantern would fulfill that need quite nicely. 

But an assignment is what it is, and Hal’s roots keep him following orders (that, and his ring, let’s be honest). His feet are floating above the ground when a voice calls to him from a few steps away.

“Hal.” It’s Bruce, and Hal, despite his better judgement, floats back down.

“What’s up spooky?” The nonchalance is forced, and it doesn’t help that at least a quarter of the tightness in his jaw is because he’s remembering his wine-and-dine fantasies. Rather than replying, Bruce gives him a piece of paper, and Hal realizes that it’s a phone number. “Wow, for super-7 emergencies? How official?” and Hal chuckles before reading the impassivity on Bats’ face. 

“It’s my personal number. Call me when- whenever you want.” The eyebrow Hal raised at the stutter lowers again as he grins slow and languid at the man in front of him.

“Bats, you’ll live to regret this overture,” and Hal is laughing and flying out, the paper tucked neatly into his pocket, the number already imprinted in his head.

Overture indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> The extreme tonal shift at the end is the result of me reading fanfiction between watching the end of JL: War and writing this fic, please forgive the whiplash!


End file.
